


The Inner Workings and Complications of Catching a Pyromaniac

by mikasasha



Series: The Coinciding Effects of the Existence of a Pyromaniac [1]
Category: Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children (2016), Miss Peregrine's Home for Peculiar Children - Ransom Riggs
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Detectives, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Arson, M/M, Pyromania
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2018-09-02 17:26:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8676265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikasasha/pseuds/mikasasha
Summary: Jake was ecstatic to find out he was being appointed to the case of arson that was making a heavy name for itself both inside the Department and all over the news, rapidly spreading from local to statewide. However, he's appointed to be a partner with Enoch O'Connor. Enoch O'Connor, in short, is fairly infamous throughout the entire Police Department for being a Grade-A Douche.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> no one else was doin a modern au so........... a srry in advance for it being so short. also this has a sister fic revolving around Emma and Olive give it a read. i will try to be updating them often and at the same time

Jake was _ecstatic_  to find out he was being appointed to the new, strong as ever, exhilarating case of arson that was making a heavy name for itself both inside the Department and all over the news, rapidly spreading from local to statewide.

No one payed even one sliver of attention to this boring, hick town in the middle of Nowhere, Florida until this arsonist- God bless his soul thousands of times- started lighting shit on fire. At first, it was just a couple garbage cans- worrying, but nothing requiring a full blown investigation. Plus, five garbage cans; coincidences happen, right?

It stopped being considered a coincidence after the third building. The first two were run down and empty. The third was a motel, consisting of about five occupants (only one of which was not addicted to heroin).

After the motel, the Department knew they couldn't avoid this ever growing problem forever. Now that it was moved to buildings, there needed to be investigation- otherwise _they_  would be the object of the press rather than the arson.

As much as the chief grumbled and groaned in meetings about how it certainly is just some ruffian teen with pyromania and nothing better to do, he appointed one of the very limited few of the Department's investigators, Enoch O'Connor, to the case.

Enoch O'Connor, in short, is fairly infamous throughout the entire Police Department for being a Grade-A Douche. A mean, pouty face with scowling eyes and the perfect cold, asshole personality to go with it. He never went out with any of the officers or other investigators for a round, never lounged in the break room, never talked with any of the secretaries- he was simply a recluse who only left his office to go to a crime scene or to go home. Jake's about one hundred and ten percent sure that the only reason he hasn't been fired is because he's cracked cases that others couldn't, and his face could win medals with the looks they're blessed with.

Since he was so lovely and wonderful at solving any case thrown into his greedy, asshole hands, the chief threw him the case and let him be. With Enoch on the case, the bad guy would be in chains and the situation would be done within the matter of a month.

Three months later, and the bad guy was not in chains and the situation was certainly not done with. In meetings, when the chief asked Enoch about it, Enoch would simply reply that he's "working on it", and the chief would effectively pull out a handful of his own hair.

So yes- an exciting case, a gruff and good-cop-bad-cop duo ready to pair, and anyone actually giving a shit- Jake was _delighted_.

Was.

It's a lot less exciting while he stands outside of the chief's door, listening to Enoch yell.

All Jake had done was walk into Enoch's room this morning after getting the good news last night and said "hi, I'm Jake, and Chief just appointed me to" before Enoch stood up to interrupt him and stomped angrily to the chief's office before walking in and slamming the door.

The office hadn't hushed at Enoch's interruption- people simply went about their regular business, and no one payed it much attention because most were at an impasse of _eh, if he gets fired, no one will miss him anyway_.

But Jake did care. Because as he stands outside, listening to Enoch throw a tantrum, he doesn't have anything to work on anymore. All of his work and cases had been tossed to someone else because he was getting to put on his big boy pants and work on the top dog case.

"I don't _need_  a partner." Enoch's thick, Scottish accent is hardly muffled by the chief's walls; which, Jake thinks, is a serious design flaw.

"O'Connor, you've been on this case for three months. Four buildings and two people are burned because you won't swallow your damn pride and get someone else on this parasite case."

"What's someone else going to do that I can't?"

"Give you a new perspective, a fresh pair of eyes, take shorter than _three months_ -"

"It doesn't _usually_  take me this long! Look, I'm on it-"

"And you will be _off it_  if you refuse a fucking partner!"

"You've never made me have a partner before!"

"You've never needed one."

"I don't need one!"

"Yes you do! O'Connor, for the love of all that is fucking holy, share your case with the boy and shut the fuck up before I fire you!"

It's quiet for a bit before the door opens loudly, and out comes Enoch, looking furious, exasperated, and with hair all over the place, as if he was running his hands through it. He steps out of the door just enough to close it behind himself and looks around until his eyes land on Jake.

His anger increases tenfold and his eyes narrow. "Follow."

Jake doesn't protest- just follows Enoch to his office. Once Jake steps inside, Enoch is already to one of the file cabinets. "Close it behind you."

And after he does, the sound of files slamming against the desk echos in the room, making Jake jump and flip around, back instinctively going flush against the door.

"Listen." Enoch says, eyes ever so angry. Jake nods. "I know you know who I am. And you know that I have never, in my entire career, had a partner on a case. I certainly wasn't aiming to change this at any point, but it seems Chief disagreed with me." Enoch puts both his hands on the desk to lean in closer towards Jake. "You will not do anything without asking me first, and for the most part, do us both a favor and just keep your mouth shut."

Jake, despite being scared rather shitless, will not at any point stand for someone that isn't in charge of him _bossing_  him around. "What? Dude, no."

Enoch just looks flabbergasted. " _No_?" He parrots in disbelief.

"No." Jake reassures Enoch that no, he was not hearing wrong. "What if I see something that you haven't? If I get a hunch or something, I'm gonna let you know. I'm gonna tell you what I think you need to know, I'm not gonna keep my mouth shut. This case is big, people are getting hurt, and I'm stoked to help. So I'm going to."

It takes Enoch a couple seconds to go from shocked to offended and angry. He walks over to Jake- and why Jake doesn't move is truly beyond him- and fists his right hand in his shirt. "I don't know where the hell you think you can get away with disobeying _my_  orders. I am your senior in this field, and you will _do_  what I _say_."

And even with Enoch's eyes right in his face, Jake still can't swallow his pride like that. "Dude, I said no. I'm going to do what I think's best. You aren't my boss. We're _partners_ , that means we each pull our own weight and do what we gotta do."

They spend so long just staring at each other, faces inches away, that Jake would think Enoch was going to kiss him were he not literally stabbing him to death with his eyes. It feels like hours before Enoch untangles his hand from Jake's shirt aggressively and walks back to his desk.

He sits in the chair angrily and looks back up at Jake with an angry face. "This is what we have on the case so far." He gestures with his eyes to the files on the desk. "If you look at them and find any connection that I haven't found, I'll give you a trillion dollars."

Jake beams, stomach jittering less in fear and more in excitement. He moves himself from the door and straightens out the front of his shirt as he walks to the desk. Before he's able to grab the first file, Enoch aggressively warps one hand around Jake's wrist. Jake resists the urge to flinch as his gaze flicks up to Enoch and his smile drops.

"Under absolutely no circumstances are these files to leave my office. Understand?"

Jake, for some odd reason, finds himself smiling again. He nods, not looking away from Enoch's eyes. "Sure thing."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> warning for very mild use of homophobic slurs and light mentions of sex

"What shoe size y'think this is?" Jake says to Enoch over his shoulder, crouched down close to the ground to look at one of the few shoe prints that were on the dirt around the newest building.

The air smells of ash and burnt wood, and the remaining rubble of the building is still hot, warming the area and covering Jake in a fair sheet of sweat. The night air carries a gentle breeze, but the air's still very bordering on humid. His sleeves are rolled and his palms are sweaty, but he can't seem to care about that while his heart hammers in his chest and adrenaline pumps in his veins.

He's going to crack this case. By God, he is going to crack this case! The biggest, baddest, and downright coolest case of arson Jake has ever heard of! _He's_  going to crack it!

And Enoch too, he supposes.

"Don't know. Not a shoe expert. That's for the lab." Enoch answers, and Jake can't see him behind his own back, but he can smell cigarette smoke and can take a good guess.

"Come look at it, at least." Jake's badge dangles from his neck, swinging as his heavy heartbeat carries through his neck. "Kinda long and skinny, looks like a woman's shoe." Jake hears footsteps coming closer to him and continues talking once he feels Enoch standing behind him. He points to the shoe print without touching the dirt. "Vans. Distinct pattern, really; personally, _I_  wouldn't wear such a distinct shoe when committing arson, but I guess that's just me." He's not shocked when Enoch doesn't laugh at his joke (but he is a little let down and embarrassed). He clears his throat. "Anyway, what are the probabilities of this being the same arsonist as the other one?"

"What do you mean?" Enoch asks, wary.

"Well, I mean; this is like, what, the tenth case? So why would this be the only time that there's footprints left behind?"

"So you think we have a copycat?" Enoch sounds in disbelief.

"Not sayin' that." Jake stands up straight and faces Enoch to see a cigarette hanging out of his mouth and a furrow in his brows. With a look at his lips around the cigarette and the cut of his jaw, Jake realizes for about the millionth time in his life that Enoch sure is one painfully attractive man. "Just a possibility. Totally possible that this time the arsonist just forgot to cover their tracks. Totally possible it's someone else, less careful, hoping to have a little fun setting a building on fire and get covered up."

Enoch studies Jake's face hard, eyes flitting every so often to get every detail of his face, and Jake would be turned on if he weren't incredibly uncomfortable. With a drag of his cigarette, Enoch walks away from Jake and towards the remains of the building.

"Let's just use the print best we can to catch the one who did this. We arrest them and there's another fire, we did something wrong. We arrest them and there's no other fires, we did something right. Either way, we lock at least one person up and Chief gets his fist out my ass for two fucking seconds."

"Sounds good to me." Jake checks his watch to be greeted with a blocky '8:49 PM'. He looks over to Enoch and watches him study the rubble, his cigarette almost gone and smoke billowing into the dark sky. He doesn't really think before he speaks. "Um, I'm out; do you think I could take a drag?"

Enoch turns towards him slightly and lifts an eyebrow, face going irritated. "From my ciggy?"

Jake doesn't comment on the hilarity of the use of the word 'ciggy', and almost doesn't choke down the laughter. "Uh, yeah."

Enoch plucks it out of his mouth and blows out the smoke he had in his mouth. He glances down at it and looks back up to Jake. "It's just a roach at this point, there's nothing to smoke."

Jake shrugs. "Come with me to pick up a pack after we clock out then? We just have a few minutes 'til we're free. Think it'd be fun for us to go somewhere together, don't you?" He tries to sound as alluring as possible.

It does not work.

Enoch sneers at him. He drops the butt on the floor, looks Jake directly in the eye, and smothers it with his foot. And then he walks to the car.

Jake sighs and walks behind him, having to jog at first to keep up pace. Enoch gets in the driver's seat, and Jake gets in the passenger's seat. Enoch buckles and shifts gears to begin reversing, not asking Jake about his seat belt. Even though Enoch is technically kind of a police officer.

"You could have just said no." Jake says when Enoch pulls onto the main road.

"Thought it was pretty implied." He retorts, not taking his eyes off the road.

"Jesus, what's got you so upset? I just asked you for a date, didn't ask you to set a fuckin' building on fire."

"First off, asking someone to come with you to get a pack of fags hardly counts as a date-"

"How about let's not use that word when I, a guy, just asked you, another guy, out on a date."

" _Secondly_ ," Enoch snaps, clearly unhappy that Jake interrupted him. "You are absolutely everything I hate condensed into one person. You're brash and stubborn and, quite frankly, you irritate the living piss out of me. And don't you go thinking I said no because you're a bloke. I _do_ like boys. I just don't like _you_." After Jake doesn't say anything- just kind of sits there awkwardly and racks his brain of what on earth he could say to that- Enoch speaks up again. "And fags is a very common slang term for cigarettes in Scotland. Which is where I lived for nineteen years. Excuse me if I haven't quite broken the habit in only five."

"I _know_  that it's slang for cigarettes." Jake grumbles. "You know what else it's slang for, though. Down here. Don't go thinking you don't."

"I _forget_. Excuse me that up there I got called poof, not fag."

Jake _really_  doesn't know what to say to that.

It's quiet- horribly, disgustingly, and painfully awkward- for a bit before Jake says anything. "Sorry. For bringing up, uh... that. I know how hard that stuff is."

Enoch still hasn't taken his eyes off of the road. "Not your fault." He says, and Jake can tell that it's very hard for him to say. "Literally if you had offered to go anywhere but get cigarettes, I might have said yes."

Jake's eyes widen. "Seriously?"

"No." Enoch says, and when Jake realizes it lacks sarcasm, he bursts out laughing.

Wow. Fuck this guy.

Jake looks over at Enoch, studies his profile as he drives. The way his resting expression seems to be angry, the smoothness of his skin and the sharp lines of his cheekbones.

Looking at Enoch and really studying the way he looks, Jake is one hundred percent determined to go on a date with him, even if his personality is about as pleasant as fucking a cactus.

Or, at the _very_ least, have some really rough hate sex with him.


	3. Chapter 3

Jake doesn't know what on Earth Enoch could be typing at his computer considering Jake is the one with all of the files in the corner of Enoch's office on a chair. As far as Jake knows, this is the only case the chief has him put on.

Jake has never been one to keep his curiosity to himself.

"What are you typing?" He asks Enoch, the pyromaniac files on the arms of the chair, in his lap, and in his hands.

Enoch stops typing and looks at him with a disinterested glare, and then looks back to his computer to continue. Jake makes a melodramatic sigh. It's quiet again, the same weird, uncomfortable tension in the room as before. Jake purses his lips before deciding to sigh again, louder this time.

Enoch closes his eyes, stills his hands on the keyboard, and looks twenty times angrier than just seconds before. "Good Lord, you are so fucking annoying."

"I just wanna know what you're typing, because I thought this was the only case you're on." Jake says defensively.

"It's not." He snaps, and tries to type again, but Jake speaks up again before he can.

"What other case are you working on?"

Enoch groans. "Oh my God."

Jake can't suffocate his smile. "I'm just wondering."

"Do you need help on the case or something?" Enoch spins his desk chair to fully face Jake. "Is that why you're bothering me?"

"Sometimes people talk just to talk, O'Connor." He gives an innocent smile, which Enoch seems to very much not appreciate.

"Well, stop. I have better things to do than 'talk just to talk'." He snaps.

"That much was obvious. You never go out with any of the rest of us to bars or dinner."

Enoch's fists clench on top of the desk. "I have better things to do than go anywhere with you lot."

That hurt a little bit, but Jake just kept smiling. "Like what?"

"Like working on this damn case you're doing jack shit to solve."

"You look like you're doing an equal amount of jack shit, huh?" Jake can feel his smile go smug. Enoch's fuming makes Jake feel a positive emotion somewhere in his chest. "Here, I'll tell you some new info." At the lack of Enoch's objection, Jake continues. "So the shoe print. Vans. We knew that." Jake knew that. "Lab report came back, nine in women's, a little worn in but not falling apart. Turns out there's a shitload more size nine in women's Vans that have been sold just in this town than anyone would ever think, so looking there is a dead end. There also was nothing else at the crime- no hairs, no prints, no tire marks. Just like every other time."

"Yes, Portman, thanks for the completely useless update. We're still absolutely nowhere."

Jake hums and narrows his eyes. "When was the last time you plotted where the fires have been?"

"Gave up around the third building. Couldn't see the point, they were pretty sporadic. I'm willing to bet my life that there isn't an intentional pattern, so where are you going asking me about that?"

"Should have been plotting the trash cans at the beginning, too." Jake takes the files in his lap and rests them on one of the arms, and takes the file in his hand with him to Enoch's desk. He opens it and adjusts the papers and paperclip until the map with plotted spots is the visible paper. He turns it and tosses it on the desk. Enoch looks at Jake with narrowed eyes, then down at the paper.

Jake places his hands palm down on Enoch's desk. He can't keep the smile off his face when he hears Enoch sigh. "See anything?"

" _Yes_ , of course I fucking see something. I'm not an idiot." Enoch says begrudgingly through clenched teeth. He leans back to lean his back against his chair and rubs the fingers of his right hand on the bridge of his nose.

"Should have been plotting them all along, O'Connor." He looks down at the map, at the points that fan out from one suburban neighborhood that Jake recognizes as a not quite soddy but not quite nice part of town that has both houses and apartment buildings. As is with most serial crimes, this seems to be starting at one point, presumably close to the arsonist's home. And as with most serial crimes, the following points fan out and go farther. As a serial criminal commits more of their crime, they become confident and courageous. They go out, farther. Branch out. It's just what happens if they don't have specific targets.

"No specific places she's choosing. I already said I knew there wasn't a pattern." Enoch sounds like this realization hurt and annoyed him. And Jake supposes it might have, since Jake is the one that found out rather than Enoch. "So she's just like ninety percent of other serial criminals. But so what? We can't do shit to find her; we don't know what radius to look in. And even if we did, what are we going to do? Interrogate everyone who lives in those buildings?" He puts down his hand from his face and crosses his arms, cocking an eyebrow at him.

Jake knows his grin is shit-eating, but he sure does deserve it. "We _could_  do that, or..." He turns around to go back to the chair, looking for the file for details about the new shoe print. He opens it when he finds it and begins to walk back the desk. He takes the photo out from under the paperclip, sets down the file, and moves the picture to the empty side of the file while the report of the print is displayed under the paperclip in the forensic's messy handwriting. "Find this." He taps his finger on the picture.

"Oh, we're going find it, are we?" Enoch scoffs. "We going to search every single building in those suburbs?"

Jake shrugs, feeling a bit less confident now that Enoch said it out loud. "That was the plan."

It's Enoch's turn for getting a shit-eating grin, and Jake realizes that he very much does not like being on the receiving end. "Good luck getting all those warrants."

Jake grunts. "Some of them probably won't ask to see warrants. We just knock on doors, and-"

"Let me stop you there." Enoch interrupts, and he sounds a little more annoyed. "Like I said before, we don't know what radius to look in. She could be in any part of that neighborhood. In a house, in the apartments. _Homeless_. We don't _know_. And we aren't going to knock on a hundred and something doors hoping to _get lucky_. We aren't going to get a warrant for every house and apartment here just to look for some damned shoes. Too much time, too much hassle, and we may not even _get_  the warrants, since our only cause is a _shoe_. Not to mention, I'm willing to bet that there's more than one house with a size nine woman's shoe." He cards a hand through his hair. "But, really, thank you for such a valiant effort, Portman."

Jake doesn't know if the main reason Jake is mad is Enoch being right or Enoch being such a _dick_  about it. "Look, even if it's not much, I still got us two more clues than we had. Which was _nothing_. And _I_  found this all. You gave _no_  help. Whatever other case you're doing, finish it the fuck up and help me with this fucking case!" Enoch crosses his arms again, and Jake knows that he must look exasperated. "O'Connor, you're a smart guy. You know this, Chief knows this, I know this, this whole damned department knows this. But Jesus Christ, you are one of the _biggest_  assholes I have ever met."

"Gee, thanks. That's what I wanted to hear." Enoch snaps sarcastically.

Jake ignores him. "You were smart enough to figure out what took me a million looks at the map in seconds, and you proved me wrong with hardly any effort at all. If you just _tried_  to solve this case, you probably would have had it done ages ago."

"You don't know jack all about me." Enoch glares at him.

"I know that you're smart and you're not trying _at all_. It doesn't take a genius to know that if you were trying, you would have this solved."

"There's no bloody _clues_ , Portman. The hell do you want me to do? You and Chief think I'm some sort of psychic? That shoe print's the best bloody evidence I've gotten on this case. Unless I have DNA or fingerprints, there's _nothing I can do_. Obviously, from the shoe print and the pattern of the fires, she's getting reckless, just like almost every other serial criminal that's ever existed. We have to wait for a print or a hair. Shoe prints and fabrics aren't going to do anything."

"You weren't even plotting-"

"The only reason for plotting the fires would be to prove something I already could tell. _They're sporadic_. You found out the general vicinity the arsonist lives in. Good job. What are you going to do with that?"

Jake doesn't have an answer.

"Exactly. There's no point. Until there's something that can specifically pin down one or a few people, there's nothing that can be done."

"Then what do we do?" Jake tries not to sound defeated, but he sure is feeling it right about now.

"We wait, you dope. She's getting more precipitous," Jake doesn't want to say he doesn't know what that means. "Therefor she's bound to leave behind a clue sometime soon."

"Sometime soon isn't _good enough_ , O'Connor."

"Then you find any other way that doesn't involve interrogating or searching every damn person in the town. I'll wait here for _centuries_  if you can promise me you'll find _any_  other way."

Both Enoch and Jake know that he can't.

God dammit. God _dammit_. God dammit! Ugh!

Jake just wishes that Enoch wasn't so _fucking smart_.

With an angry sigh, he snatches the files back up from the desk and goes back to the armchair to look for anything else that could help. He most certainly didn't go back to the armchair to brood.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i might have the next chapter up soon. maybe. possibly. dont get ur hopes up
> 
> tumblr: @memekasasha


	4. Chapter 4

Richard Pickering- the man that Jake is probably the closest to on the force- knocks on Enoch's office door later that night.

"Jakey, you in here?"

Jake looks over to Enoch, who looks a bit more irritated than when they were working in silence. But he doesn't say anything to Jake, so he decides on responding.

"Yeah, I'm in here, Ricky." He shouts back.

"Can I come in?"

At that, Jake looks over to Enoch again for approval. Enoch begrudgingly mumbles to Jake a quiet, "Whatever. I don't care."

"Yeah, man." Jake shouts, and when he does, Richard walks inside. His hair is messy and his sleeves are rolled up; and Jake notes that for someone who doesn't usually have a lot of- if any- work, he looks pretty tired. He'll make fun of him for that later, though. "What's up?"

"Me and the boys are boutta go grab some drinks over at Alma's. You wanna come with?"

Jake is about to laugh and say something along the lines of 'don't I always', but he stops himself before he does and looks over at Enoch. Enoch has an irritated expression on his face- one that only sprouted once Ricky came in. Meaning that Enoch wasn't the most irritated he could be just around Jake.

Progress. That's what that was. Progress.

"You wanna come with us, O'Connor?"

The look of pure shock on Enoch's face would be funny if the context didn't make it sad.

His head shoots up from facing his desk to facing Jake, and his eyebrows are halfway up his forehead. His lips part slightly and his eyes widen, and it's the most emotion Jake has ever seen on the guy's face.

It's quiet for a bit before Enoch seems to gather himself together. Jake can see him try to get a mask of anger and irritation again, but the surprise is clear in his face still. "No."

Jake expects a quip or insult after that, but neither come.

Jake looks back over at Richard and gives a smile. "Thanks for the offer, but I'll take a rain check. Next time, maybe?"

It's Richard's turn to look shocked. "Alright. Suit yourself. We'll be there a while if you change your mind." Richard looks like he's about to walk away before he speaks again. "And don't stay here too late, 'kay? Sleep is good for you. Best not end up like Night Owl over here." He smirks- jokingly, of course- and points to Enoch. "Sniff you later, jack ass."

"Scope you, douche." He calls back as Richard leaves and closes the door behind him.

He looks at his watch and notes that it _is_ pretty late.

Jake just shrugs it off and returns working on some busy work the chief gave him a couple months back.

"Why didn't you go?" Enoch asks after a few moments of Jake's pen scratching on his papers.

Jake looks up, a bit shocked by Enoch initiating conversation. That was new. Jake shrugs. "You weren't going."

"So what?" Jake can't distinguish what emotion is in Enoch's voice. "Never stopped you before."

"We weren't partners before."

Enoch's brows furrow, but his cheeks get pinker. "Don't call us partners. It's weird. It has more than one meaning."

Jake cant bite back his grin. "Yeah? Should I call us something else?" He leans forward teasingly, and he can see Enoch trying to suffocate a smile. "Boyfriends?" He milks out the vowels, and it yanks a snort from Enoch.

"Grow up, Portman." He puts a hand in front of his mouth to hide the smile that Jake can see anyway.

"Here, let's ditch  _those_  turds," He says in reference to the rest of the force. "And go somewhere cool. Not _Alma's_."

Enoch rolls his eyes, and even though Jake is half expecting a flat out refusal, Enoch just chortles out a, "Like _where_?"

Jake smiles.

Definitely progress.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i posted this with my phone so if theres mistakes u know why


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeet

They go to Uncle Ernie's.

To call Uncle Ernie's "cool"- especially in comparison to Alma's- is a bit of a stretch, but when Jake is sitting in a booth across from Enoch- watching him talk irritably about work, watching him fidget with his straw wrapper, watching those _lips_  as they move- Uncle Ernie's gets about one hundred times cooler.

They order a lot; a few coffees and more than a few sandwiches. They finish almost none of them, but Jake doesn't mind. Just talking to Enoch is nice. He realizes through certain phrases that Enoch still doesn't do much more than slightly tolerate him, and that Enoch probably came to Uncle Ernie's because of loneliness (Enoch has, to Jake's knowledge, literally zero friends).

Jake decides to test his hypothesis.

"Why'd you decide to come out with me?" Jake asks when their conversation lulls. "You don't really like me. What made you choose to go out with someone you don't like?"

Enoch has a bit of a face journey before he responds. "Well, it's no secret that I don't have any friends. I get lonely. With loneliness comes desperation."

Something about that statement doesn't seem quite right. Enoch doesn't really _give away_ his vulnerabilities. To say something so vulnerable like that; that can't be true. The only thing Jake can think of is that he's hiding something more vulnerable than his loneliness.

Jake wonders about what's more vulnerable than loneliness.

"I think you're shitting me." Is the more blunt way that Jake words it.

Enoch rolls his eyes. "That sounds like a 'you' problem."

"I think you _don't_  actually hate me."

"Let's not jump to ridiculous conclusions." Jake can see Enoch trying to bite back his smile.

"Why are you putting up this wall?" Jake sighs with a breathy, fake, forlorn tone. "This emotional wall dividing us."

"Portman, I swear to God." Enoch runs a hand down his face, and Jake sees a smile.

"Mr. Gorbachev," Jake slams a hand on the table, jolting the silverware and plates. Enoch gives sort of a snort of laughter. "Tear down this wall."

Enoch's smile. "Jake, knock it off!" He says with a laugh, but his smile fades when he realizes what he's said.

Jake, however, beams. "Oh, 'Jake', he said!" Jake bats his lashes. "Are we on a first name basis now, partner?"

Enoch rolls his eyes, but his smile comes back. "Absolutely not. A freudian slip is all it was."

"Okay, but that implies that you _want_  to call me Jake."

Jake can see Enoch choose his next words. "And so what if I do?"

Jake, however confident he may try to appear, feels his cheeks get warm. "Then I would have to say you _don't_  hate me. My original point stands strong."

They're interrupted by a couple of girls being sat next to them. They're easily deeply rooted in conversation, and look to be heavily flirting.

"Make up a story for them." Is what Jake says.

Enoch doesn't even question it. He just goes along. Jake couldn't be happier.

Enoch hums. "The blonde one- she's Elizabeth. A wealthy girl, she grew up with distant parents, and is beginning to seek ladies to get her parents' attention."

Jake laughs. "And the ginger one?"

"Matilda, definitely. She grew up poor, but in a loving family."

"Okay, and how'd they meet?"

"Well, Elizabeth here- she goes to university, of course. And for a job on the side, she works at a daycare. She loves kids, you see; she always wanted a baby brother, but her parents were far too preoccupied with their work. But Matilda? Matilda has four sisters and three brothers. All younger, of course."

Jake chortles.

"One day, Matilda has to go somewhere while her mother is gone. She of course cannot bring her seven siblings with her- so she finds the closest daycare. And really, it was love at first sight."

"A beautiful tale. I'm weeping." Jake smiles.

Everything goes serious when Elizabeth asks, "Set fires as a kid though, huh?" and Matilda responds with, "Always been a tad of a pyromaniac, I suppose." in a British accent.

Both of the boys freeze up and listen to the conversation.

"There can't be more than one pyromaniac that sets fire to shit in this town, can there?" Jake whispers.

"I'm sure there _can_ , but it's definitely unlikely."

The girls get out a few more sentences between each other- lacking much exposition- when the waitress walks up to them. Once the waitress walks away, they notice Jake and Enoch staring.

Elizabeth looks very unhappy with this revelation.

Jake decides to speak up. "Hey." He tries his damnedest to give a smile. "I'm Jake. What's your guys' names?"

"Not interested, thanks. We're already on a date." Elizabeth clips, and immediately Jake feels his blood run cold. He hears Enoch across from him give out some dumb chortle of a laugh.

"No, no, no, no-" Jake stammers, trying to think of how to save this. "I'm- no, us too, I swear."

He hears Enoch inhale sharply and whisper with anger, " _Us too_?"

Jake decides it best to ignore him. "We were just interested that you guys were talking about fire, is all."

Matilda's whole face brightens up. "Oh, are you a fan of fire, too?"

He's a fan of arresting the person who's been setting fires around town, is what he wants to say. Instead, he opts on, "Yeah, I suppose you could say that."

Jake wasn't going to mention the fires, but apparently Enoch has other plans. "Fan of the fires that've been poppin' up in places 'round here."

Matilda once again looks very pleased. Jake can't imagine being pleased when people are getting hurt and buildings are being burned down. "Yes, those. Interesting, aren't they? I'll be quite honest, they're a marvel to look at on the telly. Wish I could see them in person, honestly." She says.

And Enoch- fucking Enoch, having to be accusatory- speaks up. "Ever seen one in person?"

Jake near slaps him for his tone of voice.

"What, a fire?"

"One of the arson fires."

Jake sees the panic on her face. He can tell she chooses her next words carefully. "Yes, I have. The first building was close to my apartment."

 _Apparently_ , Enoch can't give it a fucking rest. "You've only seen that one?"

Jake is about to speak up, but Elizabeth beats him to it. "What is this, an interrogation? Leave her alone." She snaps.

Jake can tell Enoch regrets pressing. He throws his hands up in surrender. "Sorry, sorry. Curious, is all."

"Excuse my date." Jake butts in. "Enoch, here- a beautiful man most definitely, but I swear he has zero tact."

And he's looking at Elizabeth and Matilda, but he _knows_  that Enoch is giving him a very unhappy look.

"Charming." Elizabeth gives a sneer. "Now, lads, I'm not sure what a date means to you, but to me, it means spending quality time with your date and not eavesdropping on conversations going on around you. Now, unless you're feds, do us a solid and leave us alone, would you?"

Without properly thinking, Jake almost says it. "Actually, we-"

But Enoch detects this, and fixes it. "You're upset. I apologize, that was neither of our intentions. It's just that we really are very interested in the fires. I just thought you might be the one starting them, is all. I was going to ask how you get away with it."

Jake is slightly upset with Enoch and how he handled the entire conversation, and when Matilda twitches and hums with a tense line for a mouth, Jake decides to get the fuck out of there.

He speaks through clenched teeth. "Well, he and I best be off. It was nice meeting you, uh..."

"Olive." Matilda says. Olive says.

Jake turns to Elizabeth. "And..."

"None of your business." She coats her smile in an irritating amount of sarcasm.

Olive looks like she wants to laugh.

"Right." Is all that Jake can say. He grabs two twenties from his pocket and puts them on the table, getting up and walking towards the exit immediately after.

Enoch trails him, getting out a quick "Pleasure." to both of the girls.

When they're outside, they're both a little tense. Enoch is the one who speaks first.

" _Date_?" He asks harshly.

Jake shrugs. "Felt like one."

"It _wasn't_."

"Y'know, Enoch, if it looks like a duck, quacks like a duck-"

Enoch shoulders him, but even Jake can tell it's playful. "God, shut up, Portman."

"Ah, demoted back to surname status. Don't worry, Mr. Gorbachev. Your communism will soon fail, and East Berlin will be free again."

Enoch gives a smile that makes Jake feel butterflies. "You're ridiculous."

Yeah. He is.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i think this is the funniest thing ive ever written. also i think this might be over soon? dont take my word on it tho

When they parted ways after Uncle Ernie's the night prior, each going off in their separate cars, Jake couldn't stop thinking about Enoch. About his lips and teeth and hair and eyes and every other stupid, pretty thing on his stupid, pretty face.

About the stupid, pretty way Enoch said "Jake".

He almost crashed his car about a billion and one times just trying to get to his apartment thinking about Enoch. And, shit, Jake's had his number of crushes, but one _this_  bad is pretty fucking new.

He's shocked he was even coherent enough to feed his bird and put on pajamas when he got home.

And this ever growing infatuation with and care for the guy who is the meanest person in Jake's current life is the reason he's also shocked when he walks into Enoch's office the next afternoon at half past one to find the guy hunched over a desk riddled with papers, pen in hand, and hair completely frazzled.

"Oh my God." Is all Jake can scrounge, and at it, Enoch jolts and looks up.

Even under the dark circles, pale face, and _exhausted_  demeanor, Enoch is able to light up and give a smile.

"Portman!" He says, and it's hoarse and muddied. "Portman. Port _man_."

"Oh my God." Jake repeats.

"Was a bitch to get my hands on-" He says, accent so fucking _thick_  and heady. "Oh, wait, Portman- do a lad a favor and close the door, would you?" Jake's shocked he's able to do it, but he is. When the door's closed, Enoch speaks up again. "So. Last night, after we went out, I tried to convince myself to go home. I really did. But I just had _so much_ new information that I would be furious with myself if I didn't expand on it. And so, they were a complete bitch to get my hands on- I told you this- but by the lord's fucking name, I fucking _got_  enough files on every town resident named Olive."

" _What_?" Jake's dumbfounded- completely and utterly dumbfounded. Not only does he completely question the legality of obtaining _any_  type of files on average, felony-free civilians, but that must have taken _hours_  to find everyone in town named Olive, scanned or printed each and every one, and have them all sorted into fucking _manila folders_. "Enoch- what- what-" Jake cuts himself off, unable to get out anything else.

"Lot of hours. Lot of time and coffee-" Enoch gasps, looking around frantically. "Oh God- my coffee- where is it?"

There wasn't a single coffee cup on his desk.

But there was one on the floor. Jake couldn't see it, but the emotion of relief was clear on Enoch's face when he looked down behind his desk.

"Thank God." He reaches down to pick it off the floor and holds it in the air. "Spilled a tad on the floor, but I'm so fucking fortunate the little bugger didn't spill all over my fucking papers." He tosses the cup back onto the carpeted floor and runs a hand through his hair. "That happened _twelve bloody times_." He slams his hands on the desk, startling Jake, but not doing a thing to Enoch. He stares into space in thought. "Or was it fourteen?" His voice began to mutter. "It was definitely an even number... Sixteen, maybe? But however many it was, I had to reprint _every_  paper I fucking soaked, which was a fucking _chore_."

"Holy shit." Jake gets out. "You're fucking insane. You've fucking lost it."

Enoch looks shocked- offended, even. But it's almost all lost under his tiredness. "Me? _Lost_  it?" Enoch does something akin to rolling his eyes- but just barely. "Absolutely not. You're off your bloody rocker if you think _I've_  gone insane. _You_  certainly are insane, letting such an important detail like a name slip by you." Enoch put his hands on the three folders in front of him- softly, gently, as if he thought he'd break them. "But I _cannot_  find their bloody pictures. You'd think the DMV would keep copies of their pictures, right? They've got copies of the-" Enoch closes his eyes in what looks like the most concentrated look Jake's ever seen on a human being. "The, uh, what's it..." Enoch's epiphany comes after a few moments of silence. "Birth certificates! Birth certificates."

"Is it even _legal_  for you to work for so long?"

"Hours do not matter! Besides, you think this is the first time I've worked this many hours at a time? Hours. Do not. Matter. I'm a salary man, thank you."

"That's not how it _works_ -"

"Anyway, so, I've got-"

"Hey," Jake is starting to worry Enoch is going to pass out from exertion. With each word, he looks like he'll fall over. "Enoch, maybe you should-"

"No! _No_." Enoch whines loudly, effectively shutting Jake up. "You can't say my bloody first name- all cute and nice in that dumb, cute, nice, caring way that you do; it makes me want to vomit." He groans, and leans back in the chair. "God, like last _night_ \- you called me _Enoch_  to those two ladies- Olive and Bitch Face. When you said my name I wanted to snog you so badly I thought I was going to  _hurl_  or fucking _explode_  or something. The way you say it is so _American_  and _cute_. Christ, no one's called me just 'Enoch' since I moved to the bloody States. And when _you_  say it, it's even worse, because it's _you_ , with your cute face and cute voice and all those other ugly, cute things about you that make me want to cry or commit fucking _suicide_. Just _looking_  at you and keeping my hands to myself is hard enough. I can't fucking _handle_  you being nice and calling me Enoch. I thought I was going to have to fucking handcuff myself last night."

Despite the completely unorthodox circumstances, Jake is able to blush anyway.

"So now that we have established that we must remain at surname level so I don't hug the life out of you- or worse, _shag_  the life out of you- I need to tell you." Jake's certain he's bright red. "Need to fucking fill you in." Enoch grasps onto one of the folders. On the front is a scribble in red sharpie that barely resembles letters; Jake is only able to make out a 'G'. "In this folder- this _fucking_  folder- we have Miss Olive Gertrude Garfield." Enoch sighs. "Poor thing. What a hideous name." He opens it anyway. But Enoch doesn't even scan the pages; just blankly stares in one spot inside of the folder. "She was the first Olive I found, even though the other two Olives' last names start with 'B' and 'A'. Weird, I know; you'd think the DMV would sort all their files alphabetically, right? Well, fucking guess again- they don't. I don't even know _what_  they sort it by. Maybe by fucking license number or something? I don't know. It was something dumb that took me too long. Took me _eons_  just to find this one fucking here. And shit, I don't have a picture, but I'm pretty sure she's not our gal. Want to know why? Want to know what year she was born?"

He's rambling. Enoch I'm-A-Brooding-Mysterious-Silent-Sack-Of-Shit-Enigma O'Connor is fucking rambling. "Holy shit, how long has it been since you've slept?"

"1941." Enoch flops the folder onto the desk. " _Nine_ teen forty. Fucking one." Enoch yells a bit before speaking up. " _Forty one_." Enoch puts his hands up in the air, and keeps them there. "Not... Not how long it's been since I slept. 1941- could you imagine that? Now  _that_ is tired. No, I haven't slept in, what, about..." He trails off to look at his watch, then stares off into space, looking like he's discovering the cure for cancer inside of his head. "Thirty... thirty-three hours? Thirty-four?" He groans and shrugs his shoulders. "Whatever. Who cares? Anyway- I figured, shit, how fucking common can a name like  _Olive_  be? Maybe she's just had a _lot_  of plastic surgery, or just looks really young or something. So I went ahead and found everything I could on her. No immigration papers, so that wouldn't have explained the accent, because Garfield's parents weren't immigrants _either_ -"

"You got files on her _parents_?" Jake intercepts, trying to get Enoch to _calm down_. "This is _definitely_  illegal."

Enoch clicks his tongue and brings his arms down. "Who bloody _cares_ , Portman? It's definitely less illegal than setting buildings on fire and burning people and stuff."

"We don't even know if she's the arsonist!"

"Port _man_!" Enoch whines, shaking around and drumming his hands on the desk like a child having a damn tantrum. "Portman! How many people are gonna go around saying they like setting shit on _fire_? How many people are gonna _mean_  it?"

"Shit, I don't know- enough for it to not be just one person. Listen, you need to _lay down_ -"

"I haven't finished telling you-"

"Tell me _after_  you sleep." Jake doesn't know why Enoch wants to tell him in the first place. When Jake and Enoch first started working together (not too fucking long ago), Enoch acted like he wanted to pretend Jake wasn't even there. Now he wants to tell him his discoveries? It doesn't make any sense.

Well. Jake supposes it also doesn't make any sense that Enoch is calling Jake cute and saying he wants to "shag" him, which Jake's about ninety percent sure that's Europe talk for "fuck".

Enoch looks like his resolve is cracking, but he's definitely pouting his lip. Enoch O'Connor is fucking _pouting_. "What if I forget while I'm asleep?"

"That's why you have all these folders. I'll read them while you're asleep, okay?" He's trying to talk softly, reasonably. It wouldn't have worked if Enoch was even remotely in his right mind- not by a long shot- but Enoch is _really_  fucking out of it- wired and exhausted. So it works.

"Fair enough. I must say, I am a bit tired. Not much, mind you, but definitely could use a power nap. Ten minutes, tops."

"Right. Come on over to the chair over here, okay?" He walks to the recliner in the corner of the room he usually sits at. "You can sleep on this."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful." Enoch braces his arms on his chair as if he's about to stand, but doesn't move. "Why, it seems that I am stuck to my chair."

"Jesus Christ." Jake mutters as he walks over to the chair.

"No need for formalities. 'O'Connor' will do just fine, love." Jake rolls his eyes when he reaches Enoch, who looks shocked. "Oh fuck. Did I just call you 'love'?" He sighs. "Aye, I've got it real fucking bad for you, Portman. Ruined a perfectly good joke, is what I did."

"Come on, lean on me. I'll help you to the chair."

Enoch whines. "Christ, Portman, if I didn't know any better I'd swear you were doing this to torture me. Being nice and chivalrous and letting me _touch_  you."

"It's not some great fucking honor." Since Enoch isn't moving, he scoops down and puts himself in the crook of Enoch's arm closest to him. He stands up with a fair bout of difficulty, considering the fairly muscular man across his back.

"But isn't it? You're _so_  pretty. I feel like I'm not even allowed to fucking look at you, you're so pretty." His steps are shaky, but they're steadily making it to the chair.

"Look who's talking." Jake grumbles.

"Aye, _me_ , lad?" Jake plops Enoch onto the chair with a heavy thud, and takes it upon himself to recline the chair. "I'm nothing but a prick, is what I am. A dumb, Scottish prick who's a complete arsehole." He says it with pronouncing the 'r' and everything. "And dumb curly hair. _Pretty_  is not a word in _my_  definition."

"I like your curly hair." Jake says, a bit softer than he intended. "Now go to _sleep_."

"Fine." Enoch complies, sighing with content as he turns on his side. He digs his face into the cloth of the chair and sniffs. "Oh _no_ ," He whines. "I forgot you sit in this blasted thing all the damned time. Now it _smells_  like you, and now I'm _never_  gonna want to sleep, just to bloody smell it."

Jake blushes. Enoch's more suave while wired and sleep deprived than anyone in their right mind has ever been towards Jake. And it's not even intentional.

"Flattered." Is all Jake can say.

"Aye, no problem, mate. Could smell you all fucking day. All fucking night. All the time. The smell of the nicest person in the world, is what you have."

That's the biggest lie Jake's _ever_  heard in his life. Jake can be quite a douche; has made a fair amount of people cry, has a handful of people who don't particularly care for him. But somehow, he feels that Enoch means it- considering not only that he's seeming to be very _honest_  right now, but also the fact that Jake knows people avoid talking to Enoch often.

Because they don't care enough to know Enoch. Which they miss out on, because Enoch is a hell of a lot better than his first impression made him out to be.

Jake opts on putting a hand in Enoch's hair and ruffling, which Enoch seems to like a _lot_ , because it causes him to grow a lazy, small smile and push into Jake's hand. "Thanks. You smell pretty fuckin' good too."

And he does. Like smoke and incense and air freshener.

"Night, Portman."

Jake takes his hand out of Enoch's hair to look at his watch. 1:58 PM.

"Night, O'Connor."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter came out a bit earlier than i anticipated but here u go also i want to solidify the fact that i do think this is going to be over soon

Enoch wakes up at eleven at night.

Jake hadn't planned on staying so late. He can't even remember the last time he was at the office so long- if it had ever happened. But he wasn't about to leave Enoch alone, sleeping in a cold recliner only to undoubtedly wake up disoriented and upset.

Other than periodically stare at Enoch's sleeping, peaceful face and gentle breathing for several minutes on end, he's spent the time in the office sifting through the folders. He still can't decipher the writing on the front of them, and definitely can't make out absolutely any words of the notes written on the margins of the documents.

The folders are _thick_. The one on Olive Gertrude Garfield is the slimmest; yet it still has proof of residencies of both her and her parents, birth certificates of both her and her parents, copies of licenses, debt tracks, work reports, accident reports, retirement papers, life insurance documents, health insurance documents, car registration and car insurance documents, healthcare plans and costs, marriage files- almost every fucking thing that could ever signify a person in the eyes of the government.

The second folder consists of Olive Ingrid Beatrice, if her birth certificate is anything to go by. It has a similar thickness, if not the tiniest bit thicker. She has every file in Gertrude Garfield's minus retirement papers, and one of her parents is an immigrant from Nigeria, causing a bit more paperwork.

Olive Theresa Abroholos-Elephanta has, by a landslide, the thickest folder of all three. Immigration papers, passport, visa, work visa, since expired green card. Enoch even got files on _her_  parents, which Jake can't even fathom how he got, considering their residence, work, and licenses are all Wales distributed and owned.

He'd taken out a notepad of his own, scribbling any thoughts or trails that spark in his head.

Jake is sifting through and noting on Abroholos-Elephanta's documentation when he hears a sharp intake of breath from the recliner in the corner of the room.

He looks up to see Enoch slowly open his eyes, unfocused and glossed over. He sits up, causing the recliner to perk back to its regular posture, and stretches without moving much. He looks around, eyes squinted.

When he lands his gaze on Jake, he stops completely. Jake can _see_  him remember what he said to Jake before he went to sleep.

"Oh, no." Enoch croaks out, voice raspy from sleep. " _Fuck_." He puts his head in his hands.

"Morning, sunshine." Is all Jake says.

"Go to hell, Portman." Enoch sighs, not looking up. "Bloody fucking Christ."

"I see you're back to normal."

"Of course I'm fucking _back to normal_  you fucking _twat_." He looks up to Jake again and scowls. But Jake doesn't miss the redder tinge to his face.

"What was up with that, by the way? What, like... happened?"

"I was fucking delusional, apparently. With sleep deprivation comes fucking insanity, I guess."

Jake doesn't buy it. "So you didn't mean _anything_  you said?"

" _No_!" He snaps, and Jake would believe it were it not for the fear written in Enoch's body language; trembling hands and shaky breathing.

"Honestly, I have no idea why you haven't said anything before. I've already made it clear to you that I'm interested in you. I'm interested in you every way that you are towards me. I do want to go on dates with you, I do want to kiss you, I do want to hug you, I do want to fuck you." He says nonchalantly, and Enoch's shocked expression and reddening face are entertaining. "Well, preferably, I want _you_  to fuck _me_ , but it's really up to you-"

"Fuck you!"

Jake smiles. "Oh, cool; we're in agreement, then." He takes extreme pride in Enoch's composure crumbling.

"Shut _up_! I've just told you, I didn't mean a bloody _thing_  I said before I went to sleep!"

Jake decides to play dirty. He decides to be cute.

"Hey," He says, softly. He sees Enoch tense up and stop shaking. "I _want_  to be with you. If you want the same thing, don't cover it up. There's nothing I want more than to be with you." He says it all gently- on complete purpose. Enoch looks like he's stopped breathing, and his hands are clenching.

"Even if I did, we're partners." It's a lot softer than Jake expected. "It's wrong to get together while we're partners on a case."

Enoch is really reaching.

"Why? You aren't my boss. We have the same job position. Why can't we be together?"

"Give it a fucking rest! I'm _not interested_!"

The cracks in his voice are enough proof to Jake that he doesn't mean a word coming out of his mouth.

"You're not interested?" Jake asks, setting down his pen and standing up. Enoch looks as if he's about to jump up and book it out of the room.

But he doesn't.

" _No_."

Jake walks to the chair, towards an on-edge Enoch. "So if I went on my knees, right in front of you," Jake goes on his knees, purposefully close to Enoch's lap. He hears Enoch's breath hitch, and his cheeks are red. "You wouldn't be interested?"

"No." He says, but his voice cracks and his breathing is hard.

"And if I put my hands here while down right in front of your lap," He puts a hand on one of Enoch's thighs. He was expecting Enoch to jerk away, to get up and run. But he doesn't. "You wouldn't be interested?"

" _No_." He says again, but it's more of a plea than anything.

"If I looked you in the eyes," He does, studying the different browns and blown pupils. "Got real close to you," He does, leaning his face forward to be fairly close to Enoch's. He's having trouble reaching from the floor, but it's worth it to see Enoch breaking. "And _begged_  you to be able to do something, you wouldn't be interested?"

Enoch opens his mouth, his breath smelling like nicotine and gum and sleep, trying to say something. But nothing comes out.

"Please, _Enoch_ ," He says, breathier than normal, emphasizing his name with a whine. He squeezes the hand laying on Enoch's leg just slightly. "Let me do something."

"You stupid fucking wanker." Is the thing Jake hears before he feels Enoch's lips.

He's a bit taken aback, but when Enoch tilts his head and puts one hand on Jake's shoulder and the other on the base of his skull, his mind fuzzes to white noise and he responds without even thinking.

He kisses back, pushing roughly onto Enoch. He tastes wonderful- like Newports and coffee and mints. Jake doesn't want to stop tasting and smelling and touching.

They separate only for Jake to swing onto the chair, straddling Enoch and sitting in his lap. They kiss again; harder, sloppier.

Jake's hands card through Enoch's hair, and Enoch's hands lay firmly on Jake's waist, gripping hard as if Enoch hates the thought of letting go. The force has Jake convinced he'll grow bruises, and the fact that he doesn't mind that is a bit alarming.

It's all ruined when Enoch pulls away, leaning back into the chair to get away from Jake's lips. "Wait, wait-"

Jake groans. " _What_?" He still has his hands in Enoch's hair, soft and curly and Jake wants to _keep kissing him_.

Enoch's lips are pink and swollen and covered with spit, and his hair is messy and he looks so fucking _sexy_  and _delicious_. "Did you read the folders?"

Jake is in shock. Why the _hell_  would he ask about the case _now_? When _both_  of them are rapidly getting hard and Jake is _sitting in Enoch's lap_.

"Oh my God, can we talk about this _after_  I suck your dick?"

"No! Did you read them or not?"

"Well I didn't sit around here doing _nothing_. Of course I read them."

" _All_  of them? Thoroughly?"

"Yes! Established! Can I continue fucking kissing you, please?"

"Did you read Abroholos-Elephanta's all the way through?"

Jake sighs, and he's going to have a fucking stroke if he doesn't do _something_  with Enoch. "No, I didn't read it all the way through. You woke up before I could. Does that even _matter_?"

"Yes! I was trying to tell you this before I went to sleep!" Enoch shouts, and he moves his hands from Jake's hips to Jake's face. "She was charged with arson when she was sixteen in Wales. The charges were dropped, but the paperwork is still there. She was charged with _arson_."

Jake then blanks entirely on his want of Enoch, and his mind swipes everything clean. His eyebrows raise and his breath hitches.

" _She has to be it_ , Portman. She's the arsonist. And we know where she lives and where she works. And we can't arrest her for anything more than probable cause right now, but if we search her house and wind up with a size nine Vans, something tells me we have a good shot at putting her behind bars."

And Jake is then filled with such a sense of elation- of pride and accomplishment- that he smiles, accompanied by a short lived laugh.

"Holy shit. You did it." He says.

"No." He moves his hands to the back of Jake's head. " _We_  did it. We never would have found her if you hadn't invited me out."

"You smart, dedicated son of a bitch." Jake laughs shortly again, and reaches forward to kiss Enoch again.

This time, Enoch doesn't pull away. Enoch does the very opposite of pull away. He pushes his lips forward, rough, as if he's trying to melt into Jake. And Jake doesn't mind it one bit.

When Enoch reaches his hands to grab onto Jake's ass, he puts an effort into rolling down on Enoch's lap, brushing two very hard things together. Jake's unable to choke down a gasp and Enoch _groans_ , breathy and heavy. It's so hot that Jake does it again, and again, and again, just to hear Enoch come undone.

Just as Jake's grinding gets sporadic, just as he's afraid he's going to come in his pants like a fucking teenager, as his kisses with Enoch become more gasping and whimpering than actually kissing, he hears the door to Enoch's office open.

They both jolt, and Jake scrambles off of Enoch as quickly as he can.

There stands the chief, hand on the knob, looking down at a manila folder rather than up.

"O'Connor, Portman, you guys still in here?" He looks up and analyzes both of them, noting their disheveled appearances, swollen lips, and shocked posture. He's quiet for a bit, and Jake can see him carefully choose his words before speaking up again. "I'm going to go ahead and assume what was happening in here was strictly pg-13 so I can go ahead and toss you guys this without it becoming awkward." He waves the folder in his hand. "BAU sent me some paperwork earlier this evening, and turns out, it wants its grubby little rat claws on the arsonist case. Don't know about you guys, but I fucking hate the BAU and try to keep it as far away from all of my serial cases as possible. Wanted to check to see if you guys are getting any closer to cracking this at all so we don't have to get the national chess club involved."

Jake sees Enoch open his mouth as if to speak, but all that comes out is air. Jake's shocked he himself can not only analyze what the fuck the chief just said, but also respond. "Uh, yeah." He croaks out, and immediately clears his throat. "Yeah, we think we have the arsonist. We don't need the BAU, we'll probably have the arsonist in cuffs by the end of the week."

The chief lights up, but Jake has a funny feeling that if he hadn't just walked in on _this_ , he would have lit up a lot brighter. "Great work. Tell me about it tomorrow. It's late and I was supposed to be off two hours ago." He looks like he's about to close the door, but then changes his mind. "And, uh, whatever you two are doing," He waves the folder to point at both Enoch and Jake. "Take it to a house, would you? I'm not an advocate for coworkers being together, especially in my own building."

He doesn't give any time for either of them to respond before closing the door.

Both Enoch and Jake let out a puff of air, and Jake falls onto the ground.

"BAU." Is the only thing Enoch is able to say after a few moments of silence.

"BAU." Jake repeats.

They look at each other for a moment, and study each others faces. They both crack smiles, and Jake thinks of how lovely Enoch's is.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey guys hope ya like sex because its here now. warning: there is a use of the word daddy in this for plot purposes. its used sexually once and i dont anticipate it being used much later if at all

They go to Jake's apartment in Jake's car.

He didn't clean up. He didn't anticipate company. And he can't even feel ashamed about it when Enoch and Jake stumble inside, Enoch immediately slamming Jake against the door the second it's closed.

Enoch attacks his mouth- goes at it like he's hungry, like he's angry. It has Jake's cock stirring again, and he presses back just as hard, spitty and desperate.

It's as needy as Jake was hoping. Enoch's hands grip Jake's hips so tightly that Jake _knows_  it'll bruise, and Jake can't help but tug on Enoch's hair a little as he feels his skin being pressed on.

The sounds in the silent air are lewd; the sole sound of spit save for their jointed heavy breathing and the occasional, embarrassing, soft moan that rumbles in Jake's throat.

Enoch's begun to trail his hands to the fly of Jake's pants before he pulls away from Enoch's mouth enough to speak. "Wait- no. Bed. I have a bed."

"I don't care. I want to fuck you against this door." He growls against Jake's mouth, out of breath with a raspy voice.

Jake shudders, finding his legs about ten times harder to stand on when he feels Enoch's breath on his lips. "That was one hundred percent the sexiest thing I've ever heard, but if you do intend on fucking me, my condoms and lube are in my room."

Enoch begins to move his mouth against Jake's face down to his neck, his light stubble rubbing against Jake's skin. Jake rolls his head back enough to reveal more of his neck while Enoch speaks into it. "No fun."

Jake laughs, albeit a bit breathy as Enoch begins to suck at his neck. "If I let you fuck me here, you'll be in pain and I'll start bleeding. You want me to start bleeding?"

At that, Enoch bites down on Jake's neck a bit harder than Jake anticipated, getting out a moan that he didn't expect. "Kind of."

Jake's hands shake and his flesh raises as Enoch licks a stripe up Jake's neck. "God- please, fuck-"

"Please what, Portman?" He asks against Jake's neck, in a mockingly innocent voice.

Jake chokes out a broken groan. "Fuck- I don't know- something- anything."

He feels Enoch smile. "This, maybe?" His hands begin to undo Jake's belt and his fingers slip to the button and zipper.

Jake almost lets him do it- he's about to pull down the zipper when Jake stops him. "No! No. Bed. We're doing this on my bed."

"Come _on_." Enoch says, mouth still pressed against Jake's neck. It's more of a whine than a statement.

"No. I mean it."

Enoch pulls back enough to look Jake in the eyes, and it has Jake shuddering, staring down blown pupils and swollen lips. "You have a headboard?"

Jake nods, and ponders as to why exactly that's relevant.

"Your bedroom next to a neighbor's?"

Oh.

Jake nods again, feeling flustered and much more elated at the idea of his neighbors hearing him get fucked than the normal person should be.

Enoch smiles- a wicked, arousing thing. "Lovely." He moves his hands to Jake's ass and gives a squeeze, causing Jake to jolt and press his hips closer to Enoch. Enoch leans his head forward so his mouth is next to Jake's ear. "Show me where your bed is?" He purrs in a sultry tone against the shell of Jake's ear. The fact that it's a soft, sexy question dripping with attraction and not a cold statement has Jake's cock past semi hard.

Him leading Enoch to his bedroom takes much longer than it should, due to Enoch stopping every millisecond they go to kiss the living hell out of Jake.

Jake almost does let Enoch take him against the wall several times, wondering if using spit as lube would _really_  be that bad, before snapping himself out of it.

Being pushed roughly down onto his bed and immediately covered by Enoch's body is the most arousing thing that's ever happened to Jake in his life. Enoch kisses him with passion, and both of them make pathetic sounds into each other's mouths.

Enoch rolls down his hips, causing Jake to gasp and grab onto Enoch's hair a bit tighter than he would prefer doing. But Enoch doesn't seem to mind, smiling against Jake's lips as he does it again.

Jake can't kiss through the moans, his head pleading to loll back every time he feels the heavy grind of Enoch's bulge in his pants shoving down onto him, so painfully fucking sensitive. So Enoch moves back to Jake's neck, biting much more than any other boy Jake's been with. He recognizes, somewhere, that it's going to suck the next day when he has to walk in the office with a bunch of bruises on his neck like a high schooler, but _fuck_  it feels so _good_.

With each roll of Enoch's hips, Jake grasps onto the back of Enoch's shirt with tight fists. He gets tired of it fast.

"Ugh, take this _off_." Jake complains, gripping harder onto the shirt to gesture towards it.

Enoch doesn't have to be told twice, just rising up onto his knees with a chuckle that has Jake's dick twitching.

Watching Enoch lift his shirt over his head and reveal his torso is the best thing that's ever happened to him.

" _Fuck_." Jake breathes at the sight of Enoch tossing his shirt somewhere, causing Enoch to smile reminiscent of something condescending.

"Something to say, Portman?"

"I can think of better things my mouth can do than talk." He somehow spouts out, and when he says it, he wonders how the _fuck_  he was even able to conjure that in his head.

Enoch, however, seems to love that.

"As much as I would love to see you choking on my prick," Enoch pulls Jake up into a sitting position by the collar of his shirt. "I know for a fact that I just will _not_  be able to last long enough to fuck you into screaming my name if you do."

Jake shivers, fingers clenching just slightly as his arms hold his rapidly weakening body up. "Fucking get _to_  it then."

Enoch smiles again as he leans to give Jake another heavy kiss, parting only to lift Jake's shirt above his head and towards somewhere on the carpet.

Jake leans back down onto the bed as Enoch kisses him, and one of his hands returns to Jake's pants to finish unzipping them.

When the restricting layer of denim lifts off of his cock, Jake sighs with relief into Enoch's mouth and reaches his hands down to Enoch's jeans to repay the favor. Both of them quickly ditch the pants as soon as they're undone, more articles falling somewhere on Jake's floor that he couldn't give two shits about if he tried.

When Enoch grinds down again this time, Jake is able to feel the heat of his dick through the thin fabrics of both of their briefs, which is much, much more arousing than such has ever felt with every other man he's been with.

"Off. Off. I want these off." Jake whines when he feels the warmth against his groin, hands going down again to grasp at Enoch's underwear. But he's stopped immediately with a hand, and at it he seizes up.

Enoch pulls his face back enough to look at Jake directly.

"Before you? I think you've forgotten who's in charge."

In absolutely any other context in history, Jake would have been offended and furious at those words, ready to pick a fight. But here, with Enoch's sweltering voice and a room rapidly smelling more and more like sweat, Jake whimpers something weak in the back of his throat, feeling as though he's melting into the sheets.

"Tell me," Enoch purrs, low in his throat, as he uses his hands to pin Jake's wrists above his head. "Who's in charge, Portman?"

"You." Jake chokes out on impulse, feeling every nerve being touched by Enoch so hot that he's half certain he's on fire. "You're in charge, O'Connor- fuck, _fuck_ -"

"You have _such_  a dirty mouth." Enoch mutters, soft and sinful. He leans down so that his lips are brushing right up against Jake's, not leaning forward enough to kiss as he speaks. "You're such a _bad_  little boy, aren't you, Portman?" He punctuates it by licking Jake's lips, and Jake can't choke down the _keen_  at that.

He jerks his hips up, cock on _fire_  as it brushes against Enoch's. "Oh my _God_."

Enoch hums a dark chuckle on Jake's lips. "I like these _noises_." He moves so that his left hand is the only hand pinning down Jake's wrist, the right one snaking its way down Jake's body. "Been thinking about you for days, under me, moaning and whining." Jake's muscles twitch as Enoch's fingers slide, and every time he feels Enoch's hand in a new place, he feels as if Enoch's shocking him, electricity coursing through his veins. Enoch pulls back enough to look at Jake's body. "But this, I assure, is much, _much_  better than anything I could have ever imagined."

Enoch's hand goes to the top of Jake's briefs, teasing at the hem just long enough for Jake to start whimpering.

And then Enoch's hand goes inside of Jake's underwear, and nothing else really matters in the world.

Enoch's fingers are dry, cracked. It kind of hurts when they touch him at first. But he snags his fingers at the top of Jake's dick, smearing some pre come across his fingertips.

"So hard for me. So _wet_. And I only just started touching you. How very whorish." He spits out the last word with no venom; only lust. His hand begins to pump up and down, slicked some by Jake's pre come.

It's not too smooth- dry and nearly painful- but each time Enoch thumbs wetly over the head of his cock, his heart skips a beat. He hasn't had someone touch him in _years_.

When Enoch's hand goes far enough to cup Jake's balls, he moans brokenly. " _Fuck_ -" He stutters out, and grips at Enoch's shoulders. "You need to fuck me before I fucking come all over your hand."

Enoch grabs onto the base of Jake's dick, eyes boring into Jake's and squeezing just enough to have Jake gasping for air. "You're not being very _nice_ , Portman." The pressure on his wrists and on his groin has his vision swimming, Enoch's pretty face framed by static. "Did your parents never teach you any _manners_?"

"Please-" He mewls, screwing his eyes shut and throwing his head back. "Please- please- please fuck me _please_ , God _please_ , Eno-"

Jake screws his mouth shut and his eyes shoot open, pressure somehow forgotten as he hopes to God that Enoch didn't pick up on that, because he didn't want to say Enoch's name until he was slamming Jake into the bed, but his hand just felt so _fucking good_.

"What was that?" He squeezes harder at the bottom of Jake's dick, milking a cry from Jake's throat. "What were going to say?"

All he feels in his gut is regret and heat and he wants to _come_  so badly. "I'm sorry- I know you don't like it when I-" Enoch's head dips down so his mouth is able to brush against Jake's neck again. " _God_ \- it was an accident-"

He interrupts himself with a moan as Enoch bites down.

Immediately, he licks the spot and pulls his face back to look at Jake again. "Then this time, don't make it an accident."

When he jerks his hand up and down Jake's cock again in a fast motion, despite the fact that Jake didn't even think he was able to process Enoch's words, he can't think to do anything but obey. "Fuck _yes_ , Enoch, _shit_ -"

Enoch lets go of Jake's dick, causing a groan of frustration. He lifts himself up to where he's resting on his knees above Jake, staring down with a gaze that makes Jake feel like he's in an oven.

"Get them." Enoch growls out, and Jake immediately knows what he's talking about. He scrambles to his bedside dresser, pulling out lube and condoms with shaky hands.

Before he's even able to fully return to his position, Enoch grabs the stuff out of Jake's hands, tosses it somewhere on the bed, and flips Jake over so he's on his hands and knees. The rough movement has Jake's face shoved in pillows and blankets.

Enoch spreads Jake's legs just slightly, squishing his ass and opening it to see Jake's hole. When Enoch blows on it with a cold breath, Jake swears, fisting his hands in the sheets. "Come _on_." He whines.

Enoch just laughs lowly, and his hands pull away the same time Jake hears the cap of the lube pop open.

The feeling of cold fingers against him is uncomfortable at first, but as they slowly circle, slowly warm up, Jake's breathing gets harder and faster.

When Enoch begins to push in his middle finger, Jake's nose scrunches up. It's been a bit before he's had something inside of him, so it's not the most comfortable feeling in the world, but it doesn't have him in pain or softening.

Once Enoch's finger is fully in, he slowly fucks in and out, and the sensation has Jake antsy. He's about to ask for another finger when he feels Enoch already putting one in.

The second hurts a bit more. He winces, and chokes down a noise of pain, unable to chase away a hitch of his breath.

Enoch must notice, because it feels like his fingers aren't just aiming to stretch him out anymore. Instead, he begins to curl his fingers as he pushes them in, and when he gets just far enough-

" _Fuck_!" Jake shouts when he feels Enoch's fingers brush his prostate. His fingers grip desperately in the sheets, his hips jerk, and his breathing goes ragged. He hears Enoch chuckle, and he pulls his fingers back to push up again. Electricity rockets up Jake's spine, and he feels it in every nerve ending before it comes back and pounds in his gut. "Oh my _God_ , Enoch, _fuck_!"

He hardly even cares when Enoch adds a third finger- he just rocks back as best he can, trying desperately not to come each time he feels his stomach throb when Enoch touches his prostate.

When he feels his body yelling at him- feels his balls tighten and his whole body is alerting him, he reaches behind himself and grabs at Enoch's wrist to still it. "Stop- gonna come- gonna come-"

Enoch pulls out his fingers and drags his head up so it brushes Jake's ear, and his voice is a whisper. "You want me now?"

Jake shivers. " _Yes_ , God-"

Enoch leans back, and Jake tries to get himself to calm down and raise his stamina, but it's so _hard_  when he hears the condom packet open and Enoch groans as he puts it on. He's panting as he hears the lube cap open, and when he feels Enoch press against his ass, he whines.

Enoch has the decency to ease in, starting with the head and- after Jake got used to that- slowly sinks down.

By the time he's fully inside, Enoch is panting like he's just run a marathon, and Jake's ass feels like it's on fire. But _God_  does it feel good.

Enoch grips his hands on Jake's hips, digs his fingers in as he stays still. "Can I move?" He asks Jake, breathless and through what sounds like gritted teeth.

He nods, face still pressed against the sheets. "Yes. Please move- please-"

And that's all Enoch needs. He does it slow at first- pulls out slow so just the tip of him is inside of Jake, and he's about to tell him to hurry the fuck up when Enoch _slams_  himself back in.

Jake's entire body jerks forward, and the force of the thrust sends a cry from the bottom of Jake's stomach out through his throat.

He's full- he's on fire- everything feels so fucking _good_.

Enoch doesn't go slow after that. He grips Jake's hips with a force that Jake's afraid will shatter his bones, thrusting himself in and out just as hard. Each pound has Jake shouting out, swears and moans and whines.

He's vaguely aware of his headboard slamming against his wall, but he can hardly focus on it when Enoch changes his angle _just_  slightly.

"Enoch! Fuck, Enoch-" He cries out, and the feeling of his prostate being so rapidly touched _hard_  over and over again feels so _fucking good_  that he knows tears are beginning to lace his waterline. His eyes are screwed shut, and he's afraid he's going to tear his sheets with how hard he's gripping them.

"Look at you." Enoch says, somehow still able to say sentences. "Such a good boy, screaming my name, taking me so _rough_. Knowing your neighbors are hearing you get fucked. How does it feel, Jacob?"

Jake mewls, cheeks flushed as he feels the word "Jacob" go straight to his cock.

Jake rocks back, grinding in circles every time their hips meet. But for some reason- for a reason what reason why why- Enoch abruptly holds Jake's hips completely still, him easily overpowering Jake and stopping both of their movements.

" _How_  does it _feel_ , Jacob?"

"Good." Jake chokes out, throat raw and lungs begging for air. "It feels good, you feel _good_ , _please_  don't stop-"

And he doesn't. He snaps back in, resuming a rough pace again that had Jake's head screaming within seconds.

Enoch's hands move from Jake's hips to grip the top of Jake's headboard, giving him more power to thrust into Jake _harder_  and _harder_  and _harder_ , and Jake is crying out, into the sheets, into the air. He tries to grind back, but getting hit in the prostate over and over leaves him able to do little other than raise his ass on shaky knees and drool.

"Enoch, I'm going-" He chokes out, feeling every ounce of heat explode in his body as Enoch doesn't stop. "Daddy, _fuck_!"

With that, he stills completely, toes curling and mouth opening in a scream he's not able to get out. Enoch has stopped moving too, and the loss of movement has Jake grabbing at his own cock in desperation and stroking himself as he comes.

When he comes down from his high, he recognizes that Enoch has come too. He can feel Enoch's legs trembling as he tries to remain on his knees behind Jacob, breath loud and heavy. He wonders why Enoch came, wonders _how_  Enoch came the same time as Jake despite the fact that Jake hadn't so much as touched Enoch.

Enoch pulling out and flopping down next to him on the bed has Jake dropping his hips down to lay on the bed, stomach facing down. Immediately, he feels his own come on his stomach, that was laying on his sheets.

He grimaces. "Ew. Ew." He says, and clambers up weakly, able to go to his bathroom on wobbly legs and grab a washcloth, wiping his stomach off and going to his bed to wipe it off best he can until he's able to properly clean the sheets.

He notices the tied off condom in his trash can beside his bed, and when he wipes off the noticeable come from his sheets, he tosses the rag on the nightstand.

Enoch is lying down, his hands over his face as if he's exasperated.

Jake doesn't like that.

"If you regret doing that, I'll kill you."

Enoch laughs as Jake lays back down, on his back next to Enoch.

"No. I've just never had a boy call me that in bed before."

Jake gets confused. "What? 'Enoch'?"

"No, you dope." He snorts, moving his hands from his face to look over at Jake. "I've never had a boy call me 'daddy' before."

Jake feels his blood go cold. "Oh, fuck. Did I call you that?"

Enoch laughs- a real laugh. Where the sides of his mouth go up and his eyes wrinkle. "Yes. You did."

Jake groans, and looks away from Enoch's face so he doesn't have to watch Enoch laugh at him. "Ugh, God, I'm so sorry-"

"Why? The second you said it, I came. I came pretty hard. That was kind of hot."

Jake looks back to Enoch's face. Completely gone is the reserved, cold Enoch he's used to. Instead, a smiley, flushed face with sparkling eyes. "You _liked_  it? Doesn't that entail some like, really bad father issues or something?"

Enoch hums. "Maybe. I don't know. It didn't make me _think_  of my father. I just thought it was sexy. Besides, wouldn't that mean you have father issues too?"

Jake smiles. "Oh _yeah_ , I do. Just a little girl with daddy issues, I guess. Dad never gave me much attention, grew up trying to impress him. Tried to do a lot of things. Learn sports, watch football, watch birds." Enoch raises a curious eyebrow at that. "He never paid attention to me for more than five minutes at a time. Maybe the thought of having a daddy makes me happy. I don't know. All I know is that I, too, think it's pretty fucking hot."

Enoch's quiet for a bit, and he looks like he's thinking about something before he speaks up again. "Yeah, I have pretty bad father issues too. He used to hit me a lot; punch me and kick me and hit me with bottles and stuff."

Jake feels as if he's been turned to stone. He freezes, wanting to reach and touch Enoch consolingly, but somehow finds himself unable to do it.

"Dude, that fucking _sucks_."

Enoch shrugs. "Well, can't blame him for taking his anger on his cock-sucking, fag-smoking, delinquent teenager. I was a fucking nightmare."

Jake furrows his brows. "No. No, you _can_  blame him, because regardless of whether or not you were a 'nightmare', he doesn't get to _hit_  you." When Enoch doesn't say anything to that, he continues. "Besides. 'Cock-sucking', 'fag-smoking', and 'delinquent' all sound pretty hot. You may have been a 'nightmare' to your dad, but you sound like teenage me's wet dream."

Enoch smiles, definitely laced with smugness, but Jake can see the joy in it.

And Jake can't help but reach forward and kiss him.

It's soft, it's gentle, and if they weren't laying naked in Jake's bed, it would be chaste.

It's a good kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> its also in the other fic also i didnt beta this


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> back from the dead ready to duel

Jake wakes up to the smell of coffee. It's hard to open his eyes, so he just breathes heavy through his nose and snuggles further into the blankets before he sits up and rubs his eyes.

When he blearily blinks open his eyes, he looks to his right where he feels a presence and sees Enoch with a mug in his left hand and his phone in his right, sitting up straight and resting his back on Jake's headboard.

Oh yeah. That happened last night.

"Morning." Jake says, mouth sticky and voice stuffy with sleep.

"Morning." Enoch echoes, not looking over at him.

"Time is it?" He asks.

"Ten thirty."

"Oof." Jake rubs his hands over his face. "Slept in."

"You were up late." Enoch says. "Hope you don't mind I helped myself to some coffee. I made you a mug. Over there." He looks up from his phone to gesture to the nightstand on Jake's left.

Jake looks over and picks up the mug, lazily lifting it and taking a sip. It's more lukewarm than hot, but he doesn't mind.

"Thanks." He says after he swallows, and looks back to Enoch, who's just watching Jake. "Thanks for not leaving, too."

"Figured that'd make things awkward at the office. Been bored out of my bloody mind, but I didn't want you thinking I regretted sleeping with you."

Jake gives a small smile. "So you don't regret it?"

"No." Enoch says simply, and looks back to his phone. But his cheeks are pinker.

"Don't regret it enough for it to happen again?" Jake says slyly, and gently bumps his shoulder against Enoch's.

Enoch rolls his eyes with a smile. "Take me to dinner first, Portman."

Jake laughs. "I already did! And what happened to ' _Jacob_ '?"

Enoch's cheeks get pinker and he side-eyes Jake, but his smile doesn't go away. "Yeah, maybe if you're nice I'll call you that again."

" _Wow_. My own boyfriend won't even call me by my first name." Jake says with mock hurt, and try his best to make it funny, he still feels nervous saying the term 'boyfriend'.

Enoch's eyebrows raise. "Boyfriend. Little presumptuous, don't you think?"

Jake shrugs sheepishly. "Maybe. Only presumptuous if you disagree."

Enoch smiles at that, with an emotion Jake can't read. Enoch just reaches forward to kiss Jake, and Jake can't imagine that his mouth tastes very good right now, so he keeps it vanilla when he kisses back.

When Enoch pulls back, he looks towards his phone again. "Good thing I don't disagree then, isn't it?"

Jake grins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yeah i havent posted to these stories in three months and both of the new chapters are short and fillers but thats just how it goes sometimes

**Author's Note:**

> send me anon hate on tumbeler.Com: @memekasasha


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